


Mizpah.

by orphan_account



Category: cryaotic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cry is a saint and hilarious, Love, M/M, Sassy, Virus ChaoticMonki | Cryaotic, don't hurt me if i don't know anything right, i'll add as i go - Freeform, mother forgive me, oc work, probably eventual smut, this kid obviously listens to p!atd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Noun - the deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance or death. (No major character death, appease your mammary glands.)Or in other words;A very weird and charismatic male makes friends with the quiet outcast with a pleasing voice. Neither popular or well liked, but hilarity ensues at the expense of self loathing from the author.
Relationships: ChaoticMonki | Cryaotic/Original Character(s), probably others? haven't decided





	1. All Eyes on Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Send my condolences to my pride. It's funeral is soon to be held, but as of right now, it's suffering the backdrop. Anyways, enjoy and tell me if I did anything wrong. First time writing for Cryaotic, and I haven't slept solidly for the last four days or so.

_The hands - well, he didn't know if he could classify them as hands. It was rather hand like objects that never seemed to end, but attached to the fingertips were long sharpened knives. As if Edward Scissor Hand and Freddy Kruger had mixed; if they had, he was the perfect target to test the waters with. Deathly afraid of lingering pain, he wasn't one throw himself in the deep end. The cold voice ringing in his ears meant nothing to him, he had found that he could tune out voices that lacked emotions. If they weren't screaming in his face or lulling him to sleep, he couldn't care any less about what they sounded like. But the words the voice spoke certainly wasn't one you'd like to hear in nightmares, where your creativity is your enemy._

_"Isn't it funny," it echoed. He would've ripped out the vocal cords if given the option, but alas he was suffering against his dark psyche and rendered defenseless. "I've been hated all my life by you yet now you're the one that's directly under my control?" Even if this was a nightmare, or a lack thereof since the victim couldn't see anything due to the blindfold, he was still the snarky and charismatic one. His demons couldn't rip away his wit._

_"It's hilarious that you think I'm under your control, demon. You're nothing but a bad dream, a fuckhead sent by the depths of hell to make me give in. Do yourself a favor and cry me a river."_

With this antidote, he was given back to the real world. He had been in math class, falling asleep due the boring lessons. The teacher's voice was that of a robot, and steady background talking was something he was a sucker for. He'd recorded the teacher talking and used that as ammunition to sleep, often resulting in give his thoughts a bit of a chaotic time. It was his favorite time when things were looking somewhere in-between edge lord and whimsical. If two words had to describe him to a T, it'd be that. But the reasoning he was beginning to wake suddenly was the fact the teacher was inches from grabbing his wrist. Having just experienced a horrifying crossover of whatever the fuck that was, his fight or flight kicked in. It hits him hard rarely, mostly his gut telling him to avoid certain locations or people, but he'd never outright react like this. 

Well he is a rule-breaker, to be fair. 

As the teacher reached for his wrist, his feet pushed him off his desk, standing up quickly. He'd caught the teacher's hand as he stood, trying to register was just occurred, as well as everyone else in that classroom. The teacher began yelling for him to unhand her, which he did, and few caught on that this teacher had a particularly nasty anger problem. They brought out their phones, filming it. He hadn't done anything but reacted to her reaching for his arm. If you haven't noticed, it was a bit of a clear thing to not mess with the weird kid. They were silent and often times much more dangerous than you could ever imagine.

The teacher screamed at him for a good two minutes before the teacher next door heard the commotion, heading inside without warning. The students saw the other teacher but kept reacting to a minimum, trying to get the teachers to see the behavior. If the videos weren't spread everywhere by after school, he'd be amazed. Around ten seconds of him receiving the worst insult to date - "YOU'RE JUST DOING WHATEVER YOU WANT!" - later, he came up with a response. Albeit a quiet one and he had waited for the teacher to turn around, but either way, he did it. He spoke his mind.

"And you're berating a teen for lightly grasping your wrist." 

Before any more words could come from either of the two, the teacher at the doorway defused the situation, taking both the teacher and the student outside. The moment the door closed students rushed to the peephole of the door to collect footage. He found his classmates to be annoying and downright idiots, but at least they found him to be the nice weird kid. The one that even if you don't talk to him much, or at all, he'll remember to give you specific candy during holidays. Some can't sustain anything peanut related, so the man goes and gets non-peanut candy that they love. It doesn't matter what you've done to the kid in the past, he understands that not everyone's friendly. Switching three times a year was bound to make people suspicious. 

The nice teacher, the one in the doorway, asked separately what the incident was about. He responded with that he did touch her wrist, and she told the teacher he had assaulted her. By the puzzled look on both accounts, more or less on how delusional this retard was, she knew she'd made the wrong choice. So much for that though, the recorder in his pocket to capture the teacher's monotone voice was still recording in his pocket. He'd unintentionally got evidence for himself, if the twenty kids in the classroom didn't. 

The principal, who had come down to settle this mess, decently liked the man and sent him on his way to greet a new student. Not having to deal with the worst crack addict, he gladly obliged, happily skipping off to the gates. 

What he didn't expect to see was a man in a green hoodie, short brown hair with a mask. First thought was a shooter, but it soon became apparent that this was the new kid. They finally met when he felt comfortable enough to head over. It wasn't that the person in the mask scared him - he found the unexplained to be quite intriguing - it was that he just wasn't expecting it. Though expectations rarely get filled in absolute.

"My name's Cry." 

"Sorry?" 

"Cry." 

"Oh. Well, nice to meet you. Your name is fantastic, by the way." 

Stunned, Cry didn't fully gather himself for two seconds. Hearing that his name was fantastic? How strange. How fucking amazing. He never processed hearing compliments when given to him.

"Never got told that before," he admitted, beginning to follow in the other's footsteps towards the doors. "Bit of a weird name, though, isn't it?" 

"Possibly, but I'd rather say weird is exciting."

Cry stopped in his tracks. He was smiling beneath the emotionless mask. The man had noticed his deep voice by this point, and although he normally tuned out devoid voices, he found himself at ease listening to Cry.

"You're an odd fellow."

"Of course I am. The world would be dull without me."

"Rather confident, too, then."

"Suits the family name. It's Rowan, for your information."

With a mischievous glint in all eyes, the pair looked at each other. There was an unspoken bond already connecting erratically, and the moths Rowan had stored in his stomach after years of broken friendships were starting to feel like butterflies again.

"We're going to be friends, aren't we?"

"If you'd like to know why we feel this way, I suggest we are." 


	2. Pretty. Odd.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan and Cry are now the duo of the school. Also, no, the bullies in my story are not based off real people. Any names or characteristics are purely coincidental. I love people, and I like liking things more than hating them.

Rowan skidded to a stop, jumping to hide from the bullies. He found a empty hallway, thanked his stars and ran into a vacant classroom. It was rarely used due to a bit of unfortunate circumstances, but nothing had ever happened since, so he was mostly confused as to why they didn't use it. He didn't _want_ them to use it, though, as he'd be out of a hiding spot. Many pairs of footsteps raced down the hall, puzzled voices asking each other where the hell he went. Rowan wasn't concerned for the bullies, he was more or less concerned for Cry. He had been showing him around the school when his enemies showed up at the drop of a hat, and as a little advice about the school, he told Cry to go hide at the library. Cry had no idea where the library was, but Rowan distracted nearly all the bullies to follow him instead of the new kid, so he hoped Cry made it.

Suppose he could go check and see, as the bullies never ventured there due to the librarian. The librarian wasn't bad, no, she just didn't deal with their shit. Someone as quiet as Cry would easily get along with her. Rowan's only issue is that if he was being chased, he wasn't allowed to go there and cause ruckus. However, if he'd lost the fuckers and the nurse wasn't there, he had to be taken care of by the librarian. Catching his breath, he opened the classroom door, looking at the hallway. No one was there. He turned on his heel and bolted towards the main office, avoiding the upperclassmen. He scraped by the underclassmen - who were dumbfounded that the 'rebellious' one was going down their hallway - and halted when he spotted the bullies surveying the area. _Shit._

Think. Wait, he's the same size as the upperclassmen, and they're more or less cool with him. He's made a few friends with them, he just needs them for a little protection for the moment. Rowan found his friends after a minute, turning his back to the bullies and asking his friends what had happened from the last time they talked. They knew damn well he was hiding, but played along. The hairs on his neck stood on edge the closer the bullies got, but his friends stared down the bullies and kept them moving along. By the time they headed into their classes, the bullies had filtered out looking in other parts of the school. He bolted for the library, slowing to a stop when he heard struggling in a janitor's closet. Opening it revealed Cry blindfolded and restrained. Rowan kept his privacy and didn't look at his face, talking and identifying himself to keep from Cry being terrified. 

He himself had rarely gotten to this point of the bullies anger, but he guessed that if Rowan was already protecting him from the get go, he'd have a giant target on his back. But he couldn't exactly distance himself from Cry, that'd bring more trouble. Well, if the lucky stars are on their side, he'd suck it up and make it through. Rowan untied Cry and gave him back his mask, asking if he was injured. "Not really, but they did punch me a few times."

"Where?"

"My stomach." 

"Alright. The library's is only a few doors away, and she's a saint, so we'll get you fixed up." They exited the closet, and before anymore bad things could make themselves known, raced to the library. Mrs. Munce wasn't in today, but her husband was, and he was much harder on bullies than she was. He was also more sympathetic. So when Rowan and a new student came in asking for a medical kit, he was more than willing. Rowan spilled the story as Cry took a few pain medicines, keeping an ice pack pressed to his abdomen. Mr. Munce called Rowan's teachers and told them he'd be helping the library for the day, as well as helping Cry settle into the school. Most teachers liked him anyway and didn't care all that much.

"Are you alright?" Cry asked this to Rowan, who up until that point, had been running off adrenaline. His hands were shaking and his foot was repeatedly tapping against the ground. He needed someway to calm his heart rate, but as long as he was in the school, that wasn't happening. "Hm? Yeah, I'm okay, just.. jittery. It'll take me a while to get everything under control."

"Does this always happen?" 

"The bullies? Nearly everyday for me. Sorry for getting you involved." 

"You didn't, really. I knew you kept them on your tail to get me off their radar."

"See, you're smart yourself." 

Cry chuckled, and Rowan grinned.

He was starting to feel as if making friends again was worth it. 


End file.
